


if the world was ending

by aprhrodite



Category: Hardy Boys - Franklin W. Dixon, Nancy Drew (Video Games), Nancy Drew - Carolyn Keene, Nancy Drew/Hardy Boys Super Mysteries - Franklin W. Dixon & Carolyn Keene
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-15
Updated: 2020-12-15
Packaged: 2021-03-10 22:22:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,332
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28094601
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aprhrodite/pseuds/aprhrodite
Summary: the aftermath of the voicemail.
Relationships: Nancy Drew/Frank Hardy
Comments: 4
Kudos: 27





	if the world was ending

_there wouldn’t be a reason why_

_we would even have to say goodbye._

The cellphone slipped from Frank’s hand and broke into several pieces on the linoleum kitchen floor. No one spoke for a long time.

What had the tiny robotic voice said? _Message length exceeded_.

Joe opened his mouth to speak, hesitated, then closed it again.

Frank found his footing and managed to make it to the foyer. He was about halfway up the staircase when Joe called out for him. “Frank, I—” he said, tripping over the umbrella rack. Frank didn’t turn around. “Do you—I mean, do you want to—”

“No,” he replied, raking one hand through his hair. He caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror hanging on the adjacent wall and immediately felt sick. “I just need to lie down.” He continued up the stairs.

Joe sounded strained. “What about—” he began, stopping short when Frank reached the second floor. “Should we go there? To Colorado?”

_Absolutely fucking not_ , Frank was thinking, but he said, “I’m sure she’s fine.”

“I don’t know, I mean, that guy Victor has quite the history,” Joe said. Frank didn’t turn to see, but he could tell Joe was picking the skin around his cuticles. “What if she doesn’t get our message in time? What if she gets hurt?”

Frank put his index finger and his thumb on the bridge of his nose and then began massaging his temples. He could feel the slight throb of a headache beginning behind his left eye. “Even if we caught a flight today, we’d never make it in time,” he told Joe, who was now standing two steps up from ground level. “We did what we could.”

_We left a fucking voicemail._

As much as Frank wanted, he couldn’t lump Joe into this disaster. They had only agreed to call Nancy to warn her about the dangers of her confidant. Just a quick, easy, _get the hell out of there_ voicemail. Frank had left dozens of those voicemails for Joe. He should be good at this by now. Except he wasn’t. Except he had completely derailed the purpose of their phone call by blathering a bunch of nonsense. Frank was suddenly grateful he let Joe do most of the talking. He didn’t want to imagine what would’ve happened if he had the phone the entire time.

_Nancy, please be careful, I just want to tell you that I’ve always—_

He squeezed his eyes shut. Behind him, Joe advanced another two steps, drumming his fingers against the wooden banister. “If you’re sure…” he was saying, but Frank wasn’t listening.

He was focused on the set of photos that hung on the wall at the top of the stairs. His mother had always been obsessed with taking photos, especially when he and Joe were young. The timeline of their lives began at the foot of the stairs and led upwards to the second floor. Photos progressed from baby pictures to their senior portraits, each one more reminiscent than the last. People used to say that Frank and Joe looked more alike when they were young, and he tended to agree. Joe’s baby blonde curls were just beginning to frame his round face and Frank’s hair had not darkened yet. They both had the same eyebrows, the same mouth, and the same nose. Different, but the same.

Frank looked down at one awkward photo that had been hastily pinned amongst other photos from high school. It was a photo taken on Jake Hurley’s train. There was a slight fingerprint smudge on the left side, and three teenagers standing in the middle, arms around each other, smiling. Frank was shorter then, gangly, almost, with a mouthful of braces and acne dotting his face. He barely recognized himself. His hair was much longer than he preferred to keep it now, and instinctively he reached up to fix a couple of strands that had come astray.

Joe, on the other hand, looked relatively the same. He had long blonde hair that sort of swooped down over his eyes, but other than that, he just looked younger. Nancy, too, had aged well. Her strawberry blonde hair was shorter, around shoulder length. She was mid-laugh, one arm thrown around Frank with the other dangling. Joe was giving the peace sign.

Frank frowned. Had he really changed _that_ much from seven years ago? He didn’t remember the first time he got his hair cut short or when his acne started to clear. He definitely remembered the day he got his braces off, but that was nearly a year and a half later than this photo was taken, and he looked more like himself in those photos than he did here.

Carefully, he removed the picture from the wall to get a better look.

He started to remember. They’d taken this photo when Nancy had, as expected, figured out Jake Hurley’s mystery and caught the perp in charge of all the weird incidents. They had stopped in Copper Forge one last time, mainly to thank Fatima for her cooperation and to grab one last hamburger (for Joe). Before they got back onto the train, the detective—what was his name? Balducci?—offered to take a picture of the three of them.

He rubbed one thumb across Nancy’s face.

“That was such a fun day. I miss that stupid train.”

He could feel his face flush. He had been standing there so long he’d forgotten Joe was still on the stairs with him. The nausea from earlier had returned.

He exhaled quickly, replacing the photo back to its place amongst the others. Then he made a beeline to his room without another word, making sure to close the door behind him. Once alone, he nearly collapsed onto the floor, both hands on his face.

What the fuck had he done?

There was no way she wouldn’t get the voicemail, no way she wouldn’t hear what he said, _how_ he had said it, the desperation in his voice, the panic in his throat. She’d hear it all, feel it all. Then she’d ignore it. She’d call back around dinnertime, pretending it didn’t happen. She would update the two of them on the case and purposefully avoid bringing it up. She would erase it from her phone and her memory. It would be like it never happened.

Frank swallowed hard. He was so tired of avoiding. He was tired of having to feel like this. He was exhausted, most of all, watching her act as if she had no idea.

His cellphone was still in pieces in the kitchen. He had to fix it. Just in case.

He slipped out of his room quietly. Joe was in his room, the door open. Frank tiptoed down the stairs again, sidestepping the creaky sections (he had this memorized) and making his way into the kitchen. No one else was home.

Frank picked up the battery first, plugging it into the back of the unit. He had to find the cover. He searched around for a while and eventually found it gathering dust underneath the fridge. It took some maneuvering, but he eventually retrieved it and snapped it back into place.

His cell powered up automatically. He had two missed texts.

> **ND** : Hi, I got ur voicemail. Victor is in custody. Headed to the airport
> 
> **ND** : U guys sounded like the world was ending lol

Frank read both messages and then reread them a second time, trying to extract meaning where there wasn’t any. She’d listened to the voicemail. _Both_ parts. There was no way she didn’t listen to the whole thing. Then again, even if she did, it didn’t matter. She’d already made the decision to pretend.

He was just about to go back into his room to sulk when his phone chimed in his hand.

> **ND:** I know, btw

_we weren’t meant for each other and it’s fine,_

_but if the world was ending, you’d come over, right?_

**Author's Note:**

> a long, long time ago i answered an anonymous ask on tumblr about what frank did after the voicemail. i finally got around to putting it into story-form. inspired by the sound 'if the world was ending' by julia michaels & jp saxe. hope you like it!


End file.
